


Destiny Sucks

by beren



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Magical Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-03
Updated: 2014-01-21
Packaged: 2018-01-07 08:35:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1117784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beren/pseuds/beren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Stiles sleeps he goes to the white place he, Scott and Alison visited when they sacrificed themselves. He keeps seeing a white wolf there and he knows it's important, but he's just so tired.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sleep of the Dead

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to get this out before 3b since I've been writing it since the end of 3a. It doesn’t take into account the teasers we've had for 3b, but runs from where 3a left off - and it takes no notice of the birthdays given out for the characters because they make no sense. Hope you all like it and thanks to Soph for the beta.

"Stilinski!"

Stiles jerked awake and blinked without really seeing anything until Finstock came into focus. The dream was still floating around his brain and it was difficult to concentrate, not that that was anything new these days, even with his Adderall.

"Sorry," he mumbled, doing his best to force his brain into gear.

Finstock frowned at him, but surprisingly said no more and just continued with the class. That was, until the end: "Stilinski, a moment of your time."

Stiles dragged himself to the front of the class rather than the door and prepared to be yelled at.

"What's up, kid?" Finstock asked and shocked him.

"Um."

"You look like you haven't slept in a week, actually, make that two," Finstock said. "Have you gotten into something you can't handle?"

Finstock was worried about him, Stiles realised he had to look bad.

"Insomnia," he said, because he couldn't be bothered to pretend, "ever since my dad ..." and he trailed off.

It wasn't quite the truth, but he couldn't exactly tell the coach he was having vivid dreams about darkness and wolves that just seemed to suck the energy right out of him every night.

"What do you have next period?" Finstock asked, without commenting on that.

"Math, Mr Lyle," he replied, not sure where the conversation was going.

He really did not expect Finstock to wave a set of keys under his nose.

"What?" his brain couldn't cope with such weird behaviour at the best of times so right then it had no hope.

"The keys to my office," Finstock told him. "If you move out the chair and the ball box it's very comfortable. I will tell Lyle you are on special assignment with me for the next hour. Get some sleep, Stilinski, before you fall over and break something. Bring the keys back when you're done."

It took him a couple of seconds to process that.

"Thank you," he said and Finstock dropped the keys into his hand.

"But, Stilinski, if anything else is touched, your ass is grass."

"Yes, coach," he said and shuffled out.

When he made it to Finstock's office, he pulled out the chair and the ball box, set his phone for ten minutes before the next class and then sat down, putting his feet on the box. He went out like a light as soon as he remotely relaxed.

As he opened his eyes onto whiteness he wanted to cry. It was the same every time; he fell asleep and he woke up in the white place. He was on a white dais surrounded by a black moat and he could see the nemeton in the distance. There was always a white wolf as well. It had started in the distance even further away than the nemeton, but this time it was standing next to him on the dais. It looked at him with eyes as white as its fur, just slightly ringed in red and he collapsed to his knees beside it.

He was so exhausted. It felt like he hadn't slept properly in weeks. Ever since he, Scott and Allison had sacrificed themselves he had been having dreams. At first he had just felt a little tired, but over the last week it had been getting worse. They weren't even nightmares, it felt as if he was living two lives and never resting.

The wolf nudged against his face, urging him to look up. He was so tired all he wanted to do was lie down, but the wolf was insistent. When he finally lifted his head he saw another wolf, far off, past the nemeton, and this one was black. It seemed familiar somehow, but he didn't know why. The white wolf leaned into him, supporting him as he sagged, but he did not take his eyes off the black one.

"What do you want from me?" he asked, because he just felt so lost.

Sound lanced through his head, so loud he thought his ears would burst and he was thrust back into the real world. It took him a few seconds to realise it was only the alarm on his phone and he blindly reached out to turn it off. It couldn't have been that long, but he already knew time in the white place and time in reality were entirely separate things. Dragging himself up, he felt worse than before he had tried to sleep. His limbs were like lead, his thoughts too slow and too fast in alternate blocks and he was swimming in a sea of fatigue.

"Give keys back," he said to make sure he knew where he had to be going.

It took more effort than he wanted to admit, just to keep that straight in his head. By the time the bell rang he had just made it to Finstock's classroom and he stood there swaying as the tide of the freshman class broke over him.

"Stilinski," Finstock said as soon as the man caught sight of him hovering in the doorway, "you look worse than you did before and I didn't think that was possible."

"Coach," he said, holding out the keys.

He was supposed to be stepping forward, he knew that, but he just didn't seem to be able to find the energy. Everything around him was kind of shiny where he was looking and going dark on the edges. It made him feel very surreal and it was only as everything moved far too fast that he realised he was pitching forwards. Mercifully everything went black before he hit the ground.

"Stilinski," he heard someone saying, "everyone calls him Stiles."

"Stiles, Stiles, can you hear me?" someone closer asked and he felt something being put over his face.

He did his best to reply, but all that came out was a mumble that never had a chance at being real words.

"Well done, Stiles," the someone said, "do you think you can open your eyes for me?"

He tried, he really did, but his eyelids were so heavy and every time he managed to flick them open they fell back closed too quickly. It was frustrating and he desperately wanted to do as he was asked, but it was so hard.

"Hey, it's okay," the person told him, "you're doing fine. Just relax for me and breathe, the oxygen will help make everything clearer."

"Do you know if he's ingested any substances?" another voice asked from further away.

"Stilinski's always been clean," Finstock replied. "He said he's been having trouble sleeping. His father is the sheriff and you must have read about the disappearances; the kid's been different since then, but it's been worse over the last week."

"People don't usually collapse from insomnia," the other voice said.

"Stiles," the person looking after him grabbed his limited attention, "I'm just going to put an IV in your arm. You're showing signs of dehydration so that should help. It will sting a little, but I've numbed the area so it won't for long."

The warning didn't really help, he still grunted as the needle went in, but the paramedic, he decided it had to be a paramedic, was right, it didn't last long.

"He's set up," his carer said.

"Right," the other one replied, "let's get him to the hospital. Thank you Mr Finstock."

Something jostled and there was a click and then the sensation of more motion. Stiles wasn't really with it enough to figure out exactly what was happening, but he knew they were moving. He didn't even have enough brain power to worry about where.

"Stiles!"

At that sound his brain woke up a bit. His thoughts screamed alpha before they informed him it was Scott and his body tried to respond on pure instinct. He even managed to open his eyes in time to just about make out Scott's worried face.

"Hey, aren't you Melissa McCall's son?" his paramedic asked.

"Yes," Scott replied, "what's wrong with Stiles."

"That's what we're hoping to find out at the hospital," the other paramedic said.

"Look," Scott said, "I'm his best friend, can I ride along, I can help with contacting his dad and everything?"

"I don't know..." one said.

"The kid opened his eyes for him," the other countered quickly, he was definitely Stiles' favourite, "and his mom's a friend."

There was silence for a while and Stiles let his eyes drift closed again.

"Okay," was the eventual agreement, "just keep out of the way, okay?"

"Sure," Scott said and when a warm hand settled on his arm Stiles felt a little better.

His confused thoughts were only just ticking over and at the touch they settled on, 'pack, alpha, safe', and it never occurred to him he really had no reason to be reacting like that since he wasn't a werewolf. He fell asleep with Scott's hand on his skin and, for once, he didn't dream.

~*~

The next time he woke up he almost panicked, because he was staring at white, but he blinked and a perfectly ordinary hospital ceiling came in to focus. The first thing he noticed after that was there was a hand in each of his, on one side Scott and on the other his dad.

"Hey," he said feeling woozy, but actually somewhat better than the morning.

"Hey there, kid," his dad said, smiling at him, "how are you feeling?"

At least the lines of worry eased a little on his dad's face seeing he was awake.

"Like road kill," he replied, "but better. Did I really faint in front of Finstock?"

He was probably never living that down.

"Yeah," Scott said looking him over with the anxious little frown, "according to what Isaac heard after they carted you off, you went down like a felled tree."

"And do the great minds of the medical profession have any idea why I did that?" he asked, hoping that maybe there was a perfectly rational explanation.

Scott and his dad shared a look.

"They've done lots of tests," his dad told him, "but so far they can only find symptoms. You're exhausted and undernourished."

"But I eat all the time," he protested, because that didn't make any sense.

"Son," his dad said in a very serious tone, "is there anything you'd like to tell us?"

"Like what?" he asked genuinely not getting it.

"Have you been eating, really?" his dad asked.

Then he got it.

"Yes," he said emphatically, "I have been eating and I have not been doing anything like throwing it up. I do not have an eating disorder, I just can't sleep properly."

"Stiles," his dad said in a gentle, but firm tone, "your symptoms aren't for insomnia."

"That's because it's not insomnia," he said, finally giving in to the reality that something had to be going on, "I sleep here, but I wake up somewhere else. The white place, where we went," he explained and looked at Scott. "There's a white wolf and a black one too now and every time I try to sleep I end up there. Except this time," he added, not sure what that meant.

"How long has this been going on?" his dad asked.

"About a week," he replied. "I've been having dreams ever since that night," they both knew what he was talking about so he didn't have to specify, "but it wasn't bad until this week. I tried to ignore it."

Both Scott and his dad gave him The Look for that.

"This sounds like it's nemeton related," Scott said, standing up and pulling out his phone. "I'll give Deaton a call, see what he says."

Stiles just nodded and Scott quickly exited the room to make the phone call.

"Hey, kid," his dad said, reaching up and smoothing his hair back from his face for him as if he was six again, "do you think you can sleep some more? You look like you need it."

"I'll try," he said, because he was still wiped out.

"I'll be right here," his dad promised him as he closed his eyes.

It didn't take long, he was that exhausted and his body and mind were more than happy to succumb to sleep.

He woke up curled next to the white wolf and this time he couldn't help it, he buried his face in its fur and cried.

~*~

"Stiles, you need to wake up now."

He didn't want to move. At least the wolf's fur was soft and it seemed content to just let him lay there. How long it had been he had no idea, but he'd stopped crying a while ago and now he felt kind of empty.

"Please, Stiles, everyone is worried."

He ignored the request.

Something touched his arm and he felt like he had been connected to a battery. His nerves crackled and it hurt. He woke up gasping to find his hospital room full of people. Allison, Lydia, Isaac, Ethan, Aiden and Scott were all there, all holding hands in a semi-circle with Deaton inside it and his dad and Scott's mom standing off to one side. Scott had a hand on his arm and he realised what had woken him.

"I'm sorry we had to do it that way," Deaton said, "but you were not responding."

"There again," he said feeling utterly drained.

"And being pulled back there time and again is draining you mentally and physically," Deaton said, "so we had better find out why this is happening."

If he had had the energy, Stiles would have laughed; that was kind of obvious.

"Thank you everyone," Deaton said, turning and smiling at all the worried faces, "you have been most helpful, but if you would now mind waiting outside. Scott, please stay, I believe you are acting as a partial ground to Stiles, and, of course, you Sheriff."

"See you soon, Stiles," Allison said and gave him a smile as everyone filed out.

"What was that all about?" Stiles asked once they had gone.

"You were very far away," Deaton told him, coming round the side of the bed now, "and you energies were very low. Your pack leant you theirs to bring you back."

Not long ago Stiles probably would have questioned at least some of that statement, but he had seen so much recently he just accepted it.

"Okay," he said. "What now?"

"Now I would like you to tell me exactly what you see when you are pulled onto the other plane," Deaton said, giving him a small smile of support. "Scott mentioned you were seeing wolves, can you describe them to me?"

That at least was easy.

"It's mostly one," he said, remembering the soft feel of its fur; "it's huge and white and it has white eyes ringed in red. When I first started dreaming it was far away, but now it's right beside me."

"And what else do you see?" Deaton asked.

"I'm always on this platform," he replied, "and it's surrounded by a black moat; it looks like tar. I touched it once and my hand just went straight through it as if it was nothing; it was like reaching into space. I can see the nemeton as well, but it's a long way away and there used to be walls, but now it's just white forever. Just before I collapsed at school I saw another wolf, it was black and a long way away too. It felt familiar though."

Deaton was looking at him in a way that made him a little uncomfortable.

"You know what it means, don't you?" he said.

For a moment Deaton hesitated, but then nodded.

"Can you fix it?" his dad asked.

"There is nothing to fix," Deaton replied turning and looking at everyone in the room in turn, "what is happening here is not an aberration. It is unprecedented, but it is a natural cycle."

"The why is it killing my son?" his dad demanded and Stiles thought that was pretty strong wording until neither Scott nor Deaton disagreed.

"Beacon Hills is awakening," Deaton said, "and not only do we have a true alpha," he looked significantly at Scott, "but now we also have a white wolf."

"What's a white wolf?" Stiles asked, because if he was asking questions he didn't have to think about the whole death part.

Deaton gave him one of those 'all my attention is on you and I can see into your soul' kind of looks.

"You are," Deaton said.

That didn't make any sense at all.

"Have you been sniffing mistletoe?" he asked and Deaton actually smiled.

"What does it mean?" Scott asked the sensible question.

"A white wolf is a human who runs with wolves, a kind of emissary, but linked to the pack at a far more basic level and with far more extensive powers; the ultimate of which is the ability to become a wolf without ever being a werewolf."

Stiles opened his mouth to respond to that, but he honestly had no idea what to say.

"If Stiles is one of these white wolves, why is he sick?" Scott asked.

"Because he has yet to find a ground."

Stiles looked at Scott: "I thought you said Scott was grounding me?"

"And he is, to some extent," Deaton replied, "because he is your alpha, however the connection is fragile, it only works while he is touching you."

"But why me?" he asked. "Why did this happen, I never asked for it?"

"The white wolf you see when you sleep is the personification of the power," Deaton said. "When you sacrificed yourself for your father you must have attracted attention. The closer the white wolf came to you in the other place, the more the power awoke in you, but the transition from one to the other is draining your reserves. The only way to stop it is to assimilate the magic into yourself properly."

"And, just in the aim of full disclosure, if I wanted to do that how would I?"

"You need to find your ground within the pack. The amount of power a white wolf can command is truly impressive, but nature does not like such imbalance. To be able to wield such power a white wolf must be bound to a pack, an individual within the pack to be precise. The individual also gains in power from the connection and the pack gains in strength. Usually it would be the alpha, but you two do not have the right connection."

Stiles was pretty sure he didn't like the word 'bound'.

"But we're like brothers," he said and he honestly couldn't think of a closer connection he had to any of his friends.

"And that would be the problem," Deaton said and looked just a little apologetic, "the bond is usually that of mates."

Part of Stiles was ridiculously relieved that Scott wasn't his match after that revelation, because 'eeeew' he and Scott did not have that kind of relationship. However, then he processed the implications.

"But none of them like me like that," is what he blurted out.

Before Lydia had kissed him that idea would have filled him with joy, but, frankly, what the whole kissing incident had done was wake him up to the fact all his fantasies were just that; fantasies. He loved Lydia, a lot, but not, so much, like that anymore.

"And they're all involved with other people," he pointed out.

"And he's only sixteen," his dad pointed out.

"I'm seventeen in eight days," he protested and tried to sit up, before realising he just didn't have the strength for it.

All the fight went out of him as he sagged back against the pillows.

"Unfortunately, the situation does not seem to be concerned with the ages of those involved," Deaton replied. "Scott is far too young to be a true alpha under normal circumstance, but Beacon Hills is very far from normal. There is also nothing to say there could not be three people in a mating bond."

Stiles wasn't sure whether to be outraged or really turned on by that idea, but he didn't have much energy to react anyway so it didn't actually matter.

"I cannot believe you suggested a three way with my dad in the room," is what he decided to say.

"I can't believe you suggested a three way to my sixteen year old son," his dad said and seemed somewhat stuck on that last point.

"I am sorry," Deaton said and didn't really sound it, "but this situation needs to be resolved. Stiles saw another wolf while on the other side, that is the visual representation of his balance within the pack. He must find out who it is and bond with them or he will eventually die. Scott can keep him grounded and allow him to recover some of his strength, but that solution will not last forever for obvious reasons."

"Love you, buddy," Stiles said to Scott, "but I'm not holding hands with you for the rest of my life."

Then something else occurred to him.

"If I'm seeing a wolf does that mean the one I'm supposed to find is a wolf, or is that just because they're part of a wolf pack?" he asked.

"I am not sure," Deaton replied.

"And how am I supposed to know which one to pick?"

"Once you are feeling better I suggest you follow your instincts," Deaton said. "You should already be sensing the draw, but it is possible you are simply too exhausted."

It was all a bit much to deal with and he was so damn tired. There were so many questions he needed to ask, like 'why me?' several hundred more times before it started to make sense.

"And what if I don't want this?" he decided to simply be direct about it. "What if I say no? How do I get rid of it?"

Deaton actually looked shocked at that question, as if someone refusing such power had never crossed his mind.

"I don't know," Deaton replied. "Stiles, this is not something that just happens, you were chosen for a reason."

"And maybe I don't want to be chosen," he replied, because, hell this thing had almost killed him and he was so not the person to have a ridiculous amount of power; his impulse control was terrible.

The universe seemed to like taking his life and turning everything about it inside out and he was sick of it.

"Then that is something you need to take up with the white wolf you have been seeing," Deaton said, "but not yet; you are far too weak. What you need right now is rest."

At least that was one thing Stiles could agree on.

"Scott, do you mind not letting go for a while?" he asked in lieu of anything more sensible to say.

"Sure," Scott said.

"Cool," he decided, "then I'm going to go back to sleep and maybe this will make more sense when I wake up."

It was amazing what he could manage when he needed to and when no one argued with him he drifted right off.

~*~

He woke up once in the middle of the night to find Scott was in the bed with him and it was very cosy, but he went straight back to sleep almost immediately. He was finally getting the rest he needed and his body was taking full advantage. No dreams, no white wolves, just complete, uninterrupted rest.

When he woke up again, Scott was snoring in his ear and he was feeling so much better his brain decided it was the funniest thing he had ever heard.

That was about how the rest of his day went as well. He ate, he slept thanks to Scott and the hospital finally let him go home that evening. Then he continued to just eat and rest for the next day as well. Since Scott had to go to school he didn't sleep while Scott was away, but he curled up in front of the TV with his dad, who had taken compassionate leave, and did nothing except watch bad TV. Day three after his collapse was a Saturday and he was feeling well enough to want to find out for himself what was going on.

"I want to go back to the white place," he said as he and Scott sat playing video games.

"You still look like a strong wind could blow you over," Scott replied, giving him a very critical look.

"But now I'm having trouble sleeping because I keep wanting to know," he replied. "It's time."

"Are you sure?" Scott asked.

He nodded; he had been thinking about it all day. It was just a fact that he wasn't back to full strength, but he wasn't even sure that was possible in the current situation. He needed to understand and he needed to understand right now.

"Give me an hour," he said, "finally making the whole decision, if I don't wake up after that, call Deaton and get everyone back together to pull me out of it."

The little frown between Scott's eyebrows said his best friend was not overly happy with the plan, but he could also tell Scott was not about to object.

"I'm going to text everyone to be ready, just in case," Scott said and Stiles could live with that, so he agreed.

The fact that he was still tired meant it wouldn't take much for him to fall asleep, so he made himself comfortable on the couch as Scott sent his text. He heard beeps of acknowledgement from Scott's phone only seconds later and knew that the pack was primed. It did make him feel more confident even if he didn't say so out loud.

"Ready?" Scott asked, sitting down in the chair right next to him, but just out of reach.

"As I'll ever be," he replied. "Wish me luck."

"Good luck," Scott said and it was all sincerity.

Wondering how long it would be before he dropped off, Stiles closed his eyes. It would be just like his rebellious brain to refuse to sleep now he needed to. However, when he opened his eyes to see how long it had been, Stiles found himself kneeling next to the white wolf on the dais, almost exactly how he had expected. It probably wasn't good that he couldn't tell the difference between waking and sleeping anymore.

"Um, hi," he said, suddenly feeling awkward, which was totally ridiculous.

The wolf looked at him, those haunting eyes glowing gently.

"Look," he decided to go for it, "I don't want it, okay? I'm not the right person for this sort of power."

The wolf's expression did not change.

"I know it's an honour, but I'm not the right guy," he continued. "I'm just Stiles and I have enough trouble with what goes on in my head without adding a whole other dimension of possible shit. I'm the spaz that has panic attacks in hallways and just does things because for a second they seem like a really cool idea."

His companion yawned.

"Now that's just rude," he said, feeling silly for talking to a wolf for a few seconds. "Why didn't you give it to Allison, she's human and a lot better at this supernatural stuff than I am."

Now he finally got a reaction and he was pretty sure the wolf had just raised its eyebrows at him.

"I mean she can be a little trigger happy, but... oh okay," he admitted when the 'eyebrows' rose higher, "Allison might have been a bad choice. Then how about just not giving it to any of us?" he suggested.

The wolf turned its head on one side as if considering this and then looked to the left. Stiles followed its eye line and frowned at the whiteness for a moment. It took a little while, but his vision adjusted and he could see dark shapes in the far distance. As he looked at them something cold curled in the pit of his stomach and he immediately looked back at the wolf.

"What are they?" he demanded.

For just a moment the wolf bared its teeth and confirmed what Stiles was thinking; the shapes were bad. They were a long way off, but he knew, without any idea how, that they were focused on Beacon Hills.

"It's the nemeton isn't it," he said, putting the facts together; "they're coming because it's awake."

The wolf slowly blinked, which Stiles took as a yes.

"Are they coming together?" he asked, because that thought was terrifying.

The wolf looked away and he took that as a no.

"They're why you came to me," he didn't need to ask that, he already knew the answer.

The wolf stood up and stepped closer to him, pushing its head into his hand. It almost felt like an apology, but Stiles knew there was no choice now. There was no way he could leave Beacon Hills unprotected.

"So I have to find my ground," he said, more to himself than the wolf.

As the white wolf nudged his shoulder, he took the hint and looked up and there was the black wolf. It was still in the distance, but closer than before, maybe because he was beginning to accept the truth. The idea of being bound to someone didn't actually scare him as much as it might have done. He had never been the type to go into something with half his heart and this sounded like a whole heart kind of gig. What had him worried was the fact he did not get to choose. All the mystical crap was choosing for him and he didn't like that.

Deaton had assured him his instincts would help and he had to admit the whole wolf pack stuff was distinctly stronger than anything he had felt as an average human, but that didn't mean he was comfortable with it.

He knew it was going to be hard, but then nothing in his life had been easy for a long time now. Maybe his ground would give him some control, because he dreaded to think what would happen to an ADHD human wolf.

~*~

"You don't feel anything, do you?" Scott said as they shared a packet of peanut butter cups.

Stiles shook his head. It had been a whole day since he had been to the white place and spoken to the wolf. However, he didn't seem to be getting anywhere.

"They're my friends," he replied, "and they've all been really nice about this mess, I mean Allison and Isaac actually invited me..." he shut himself down as he realised Scott really didn't need those details, "sorry. But, nope, nothing. The closest I get to anything is you and, yeah, so not going there."

"Well we could if ..."

He looked at Scott's very unsure expression and half wished it might work; but that way lay madness.

"Thanks, man, but totally can't get into that headspace even if we are sharing a bed for the foreseeable future. Sorry," he added, because he really didn't want to wreck Scott's life as well.

Scott just elbowed him in the side in a sign of bro solidarity.

"Deaton was so sure," Scott said after a few moments silence.

Stiles just nodded; it had sounded like a done deal. He wasn't even worrying about male or female anymore, something that had bothered him until he realised that it wasn't really and he was over thinking the whole thing, but there was just nothing. He felt pack instincts, which was new and a little bizarre, but not anything deeper.

"What if this isn't the whole pack?" he asked, because he'd exhausted all the other possibilities.

"The only other werewolf in town is Peter," Scott pointed out.

"Brain bleach!" Stiles cried and made a horrified face. "I so did not want that mental image. Besides, he's so creepy and plain crazy he is never going to be pack. What if the rest of the pack isn't in town? I was seeing the wolf far away, what if that means they're not here?"

"Jackson?" Scott asked, but sounded dubious.

"Hell no," Stiles replied; "nothing could ever make me want to sleep with Jackson."

That really only left two possibilities.

"Derek and Cora," Scott said, following his reasoning, "but Cora is Derek's family and Derek and I were never pack, not really."

"But at the end you were," Stiles said as it started to make sense. "You were fighting together and not just out of necessity; you both cared. The whole giving up his alpha status for Cora; what if it changed Derek enough that you're finally not frenemies anymore? What if everything that happened made him pack and maybe, through him, Cora? It would be just like you to adopt someone without either of you realising it."

Scott's expression was unsure, but he definitely wasn't denying it.

"We could call Derek and ask," Scott suggested, which if that didn't say huge amounts Stiles didn't know what did.

It was only a few months ago that Scott had eyed Derek like an enemy. Stiles pulled out his phone and hit the right contact.

"Hello," came from the other end of the call.

"Hey, Derek, it's Stiles," he replied.

"Yes, I know, your name flashes up when you call."

Still typical Derek then.

"Okay, so this is going to sound like a weird question, but where are you?"

"The loft," Derek said.

"The loft where," Stiles said and wondered if Derek was now addicted to open warehouse type spaces.

"Last time I checked I've only ever had one," Derek replied.

"Wait, what, you're back in town?" he checked, possibly looking at Scott a little wild eyed.

"Yes," Derek replied. "I need to see Scott, I think something might be going on."

"Going on how?" he asked. "And for the record, Scott's right here listening in on the conversation."

"Hey Derek," Scott said.

"I'm not sure," Derek said without acknowledging the hello, "but I'm pretty sure I was drawn back."

Stiles almost dropped the phone.

"By what?" he asked, trying to sound perfectly innocent.

"Dreams."

Stiles handed the phone to Scott and did his best to just breathe.

"We'll be right over," Scott said and hung up.

"Oh god, oh god, oh god, it's Derek," Stiles said, because the whole idea sent his thoughts zooming off in all directions.

"We don't know that," Scott pointed out.

"Yeah, of course we don't," he replied in a very sarcastic tone. "I've been seeing a black wolf with blue eyes," he paused, he hadn't realised that part before, it had to have been sitting in his subconscious, "and Derek gets summoned back here by dreams. It couldn't be him, whatever was I thinking?"

"You never mentioned the blue eyes," Scott said.

"I didn't remember until just now," he defended himself. "My brain hasn't been firing on all cylinders for days, hell, what am I saying, it never fires on all cylinders, and I only saw him in the distance. It only just registered. Oh god, what are we going to tell him? I don't see, 'hi, Derek, fancy fucking me now?' going down very well."

"We tell him about the white wolf," Scott said in what Stiles suspected was supposed to be a reassuring tone. "It's a werewolf thing, he might already know about it."

Frankly, Stiles wasn't sure if that terrified him more or less.

"Come on," he said, standing and pulling his keys from his pocket, "before I panic and run off to become a monk or something."

Scott didn't argue, just followed him as he walked towards the door.

~*~


	2. Sex and Stuff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles meets Derek for the first time since Derek left.

Deaton had said Stiles would feel his instincts fire when he found the right person. What Deaton hadn't said was all the blood would vacate his brain for parts further south and he'd totally lose the skills of thought and speech. He literally fell over his own feet the moment he set eyes on Derek and Scott had to catch him.

It really didn't help that Derek appeared to have just been in the shower and was walking around in jeans and nothing else, drying his hair on a towel. Stiles had never really considered Derek as wet dream material, but he did now.

"Hi," Scott said.

Derek just kind of grunted in return, which Stiles should not have found arousing, but he so did.

"How was your trip?"

Stiles kind of wanted to strangle Scott at that moment, because now was not the time for small talk.

"Enlightening," Derek replied, "until I started dreaming about the nemeton. I've only been gone a month, do either of you know what's going on?"

"Me," Stiles said and was proud he managed to actually sound coherent.

"Me as in you know what's going on or you're causing it?" Derek asked and Stiles saw Derek's nostrils flare just a little.

Stiles giggled and then clamped his hand over his mouth, because he had no idea where that had come from.

"White wolf," he said, because Scott was so not helping.

It was all too obvious Derek knew what that meant.

"He's a white wolf?" Derek asked, looking at Scott for a sensible answer.

"Yeah, almost killed him before we figured it out," Scott replied.

"So you and he..?" Derek asked and there was something in his voice that called to Stiles.

Scott shook his head.

"But you're the alpha," Derek pointed out.

"Totally platonic," Stiles said and indicated himself and Scott, utterly astounded he had actually managed to say that.

"I've been grounding Stiles, but it only works when we're touching. We've been trying to figure out who his mate is," Scott explained, "but none of the pack were right. Then we realised maybe all the pack wasn't here?"

"Cora?" Derek asked, sounding protective and disappointed in the same breath.

"Guess again, Genius," Stiles said and at least his brain seemed to be kind of working again.

"But we're not actually pack," Derek pointed out.

"Sorry to break it to you," Stiles said, "but Scott adopted you without even realising it, all you had to do was exist."

Scott looked a little embarrassed about that and Stiles could understand why, especially after all the shit Scott had given Derek about being an alpha and wanting everyone in his pack. Derek, however, just considered it and shrugged as if it was actually logical. Point one for the born werewolf.

That didn't really help Stiles, though, because, no matter how well Derek was taking it, the truth of the situation was only just beginning to sink in. His hormones were firing, but Stiles still had a brain and it was throwing up all sorts of issues with the whole thing.

"Scott," he said, suddenly feeling very awkward, "could you leave us alone?"

There were things he was never going to be able to say in front of his best friend.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Scott asked, looking him over very carefully.

"Derek and I need to talk," he said simply and that was all that was needed.

Scott took one look over at Derek and said; "Look after him, okay?" and Derek nodded and that was it.

Not so long ago Stiles was sure there would have been a long drawn out argument, but not anymore. Everything with the nemeton and the darkness had shifted things in Beacon Hills and Scott had been different ever since he had become a True Alpha. This felt like just another piece of a huge puzzle they were all part of and had no power over.

"Call if you need anything," Scott said and Stiles managed to crack a smile at that, because he had a dirty mind and he was proud of it, thank you very much.

Scott just rolled his eyes, patted him on the arm and then headed for the door.

"Make yourself at home," Derek said, helpfully reaching for a shirt that was over the back of the couch.

As the door slid shut, Stiles walked further into the room and was very glad when his legs actually seemed to be working again. He had never been in a situation quite like this before and he really had no idea what to do. In the end he decided to go with direct, because he wasn't exactly subtle at the best of times.

"Well the sexual attraction's not going to be a problem," he said and sat down, waiting to find out Derek's reaction.

"I know," Derek said in a surprisingly understanding tone.

"Sorry," he apologised, because he had been pretty obvious.

"Not a problem from my side either," Derek said and he looked up, surprised.

"So this is messing with you too?" he asked, because he hadn't noticed Derek reacting anything like he had.

"No," Derek said and Stiles frowned, because that didn't make much sense.

Admittedly his brain wasn't working at top speed, but it took him a little while to put that together.

"You mean you..?" he wasn't sure how to ask.

"Have been attracted to you for some time," Derek finished for him candidly.

"But you never ..."

"You're sixteen," and actually Stiles could accept that.

Sometimes, because their lives had become so crazy, he simply forgot about the age difference between most of them and Derek.

"Seventeen later this week, if it helps," he offered hopefully.

Derek lifted one eyebrow and Stiles wasn't quite sure if that meant it did or it didn't.

"Do you think the attraction was why this picked you?" he asked, because he still wasn't quite sure how that had worked out.

"Probably part of it," Derek replied. "You don't seem horrified that it's me, though."

It was a valid point and Stiles had to say he wasn't. The whole raging attraction part helped, but his higher thoughts were still functioning and no part of his brain was screaming an objection.

"I've been Lydia-centric so long I think I forgot to notice if I was straight or not," he replied. "This whole thing kind of pointed out that maybe I wasn't and you might not have noticed, but you are very easy on the eyes."

The little shrug from Derek was definitely not a denial.

"And everything that's happened over the last few months," Stiles said, "has definitely changed how I saw you. Not gonna lie, I never imagined anything like this. Maybe it's part of the whole giving up your alpha power thing as well. As Deaton always says, nature likes a balance, so maybe this is a way of giving something back."

"Or I have such deplorable taste in women the universe has decided to take that suicidal tendency away from me," Derek commented.

Stiles snorted a laugh before he had even thought about it and Derek smiled a little as well.

"Well then, who am I to argue with the universe's Derek-preservation instincts," he replied.

"This has to be really strange for you," Derek said after a few minutes pause. "You're not used to supernatural instincts."

"Really weird," Stiles admitted with a nod, "but I talked to the wolf. There are things coming, bad things, and I don't know when or what they are, but there's no way I'm leaving Scott and everyone to deal with that. I don't think I'm a good choice, but weirder shit had happened in this town, so I've decided to accept it."

Derek looked at him for a while.

"That's a very mature attitude," Derek commented.

"Yeah, well it helps that I have a huge boner for you as well," he replied and totally smashed the mood.

He managed to make Derek smile again though, so it was worth it.

"Doesn't it bother you?" he asked.

It looked as if Derek considered that for a few moments.

"I was born a wolf," Derek replied eventually; "I've known about things like this my whole life. White wolves are stories, fairytales for children, but my mother always stressed how important such things could be. You surprised the hell out of me, but, to me, it makes sense."

"You mean you've been conditioned to accept things like this since you were a kid, so you're just going with it?" Stiles asked.

"Kind of," Derek said with a sad little smile.

There was something lost in that smile and Stiles felt the instant need to fix it.

"So," he said, swallowing against the lump in his throat, "how do we do this?"

Stiles really didn't expect it when Derek moved off the couch and knelt down on one knee in front of him.

"Stiles," Derek said, looking at him completely seriously, "will you do me the honour of becoming my mate?"

Part of Stiles wanted to laugh, because it felt utterly ridiculous, but the rest of him knew just how important this was to Derek. It also changed his perception and suddenly he could feel everything balanced, as if on a knife edge, waiting for his answer. Only then did he realise that he actually had a choice.

The doubts and fears began to fade as, with total certainty, he knew that he could say no. All the instincts, all the hormones, they were signposts and instigators, but they were not compulsions. In that moment it all became clear. He wasn't sure what would happen if he did say no, but the knowledge sank in that the option was there.

That changed everything.

"Yes," he said and as Derek stood up and took his hand he felt part of something inside him click into place.

Just for a second the loft seemed to partially fade out, leaving only him and Derek in focus and he swayed towards his mate.

"Woah," Derek said, catching him gently as he swayed too far, "are you okay?"

"Don't let go," he said, leaning his cheek against Derek's shoulder, "please."

It felt right and perfect and he didn't want to move ever again.

"What should I do?" Derek asked and it was kind of settling to know Derek was just as lost as he was.

"Would you mind kissing me?" he asked, looking up, because it was the first thing that came into his head.

He had never kissed a man before, he hadn't kissed that many girls either, but definitely not a man. The stubble was a bit of a shock. Other than that though, it didn't seem that much different and he threw himself into it. Almost immediately it was as if something clicked again, like the second barrel of a combination lock and he shivered with the feeling of magic. As is slithered into him he realised that he had felt a reflection of it several times over the last few months and he began to wonder how one baseball bat had held up a whole roof or how that crash hadn't actually done more than bang his head. The spark Deaton had told him about had never been as strong as what he was feeling at that moment, but now he could see what it had been.

When the kiss broke he smiled and his vision sparkled.

"Wow," he said, feeling a little lightheaded.

He looked around as the bright loft and little flashes danced at the edges of his sight. Without really meaning to, he followed them, turning out of Derek's arms and gazing about.

"Stiles?" Derek asked from behind him.

"Lights," he said, "lots of pretty lights."

More and more of them started to leap into his sight as the feeling of magic and energy built inside him. It became so bright that he closed his eyes and just felt. For a while it swept him away and he let it take him. However, eventually he had to open his eyes and that was when everything changed.

"Derek!" he screamed, reaching out blindly into what was stark whiteness.

Terror ripped through his chest because there was nothing, just power and him and it seemed to go on forever. Any illusion of control was gone. He felt as if he was going to break apart into infinity and there was nothing to stop him.

"I've got you."

The words were whispered in his ear as arms wrapped around him from behind, pulling him back against a firm, strong chest.

"You're not alone."

He actually sobbed at that as the fear ebbed a little, but the raw power he could feel still scared the shit out of him.

"Let it in," Derek told him, "I won't let you go."

"I don't want it," Stiles whispered even though he knew there was no going back.

"It's just a reflection of you at a supernatural level," Derek said. "It can't change you, only you can change it."

"But I'm the ADHD nightmare who can't even think without medication," he said, as all his insecurities bubbled to the surface.

"Maybe, maybe not," Derek told him, "but you're Stiles and you're mine."

It was just what he needed to hear and in a corner of his mind it occurred to him this was another reason he had been so blatantly pointed at Derek. Scott probably would have tried to placate him, tell him he wasn't what he thought even though he knew at a base level it was true. That wouldn't have helped, but Derek hadn't completely denied the reality, just made him look at it another way.

"It's so much," he said, awed by what he was feeling. "I remember, before, the spark, but not this. How can I control this?"

"The same way you control yourself," Derek said. "I can feel it too, you don't need to be afraid."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

That was all he needed and he let go. It was like white lightning down his nerves, electrifying and terrifying in equal measure, but there was no pain. It was not comfortable, mostly because he felt as if he was filling up with energy and there was nowhere for it to go, but it was not painful.

"Der...ek," he stuttered, "I'm going to explode."

"No you're not," Derek said, holding him in an even tighter embrace.

Stiles wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh or cry. He still couldn't see anything except white and as the magic poured through him he realised it was beginning to look a little grey on the edges. That was not good, definitely not good, but there wasn't anything he could do about it.

"Gonna pass out," he mumbled just as he felt his knees beginning to go.

He didn't actually lose touch with reality completely, but everything was all mixed up for a while. The fact he was hoisted bridal style into strong arms did make it into his head and then he was placed on something soft and comfortable, but that was about it. Derek never stopped touching him. If Derek had, he was pretty sure he would have lost it, but as the magic raged inside him doing things he totally did not understand, Derek's firm presence kept him grounded.

Slowly reality began to come back. As he blinked, first it was hazy greys and blobs, then slowly colour and form started to bleed in. When he could finally make out Derek looking down at him he felt his equilibrium beginning to reassert itself.

"Rush," he said, or tried to say, but his tongue didn't seem to be quite back to working order yet.

"I know," Derek replied, face as serious as usual, but something warm in his eyes.

"Get you too?"

"Some," Derek told him, "but I don't think we're done yet."

"Can't move," he pointed out.

His limbs felt heavy and unresponsive and all the energy he had managed to claw back from sleeping in contact with Scott seemed to have drained away. On one level he felt like he should be able to walk on the moon, on the other blinking was hard.

"We have plenty of time," Derek told him and there was a hint of a smile. "Go to sleep."

"Not the boss of me," was what he tried to reply, just to be contrary, what came out resembled it very little even as his eyes slowly slid shut.

~*~

Sleeping like the dead really hadn't been how Stiles expected the next few hours to go, but he woke up to sunlight coming through the windows. He was curled on his side and another body was curled up against his back. It took his foggy brain a while to remember who it was.

"Good morning," Derek greeted against his neck.

"Morning," he mumbled back and realised he had just had the best night's sleep he had had, well, since his mom died at least; he had to have been asleep for ten hours at least.

"How are you feeling?"

He had fallen asleep after being invaded by an incredible amount of energy and he could feel it under his skin, but it wasn't pushing at him or anything. Everything wasn't settled, he could sense that, but it was better than he had felt since the sacrifice.

"Good," he said, turning so he could see Derek.

Clearly Derek had been awake a while because there was no trace of sleepiness in his features.

"How about you?"

"Good too," was the short response.

It was only as he moved again that Stiles caught up with the fact he was not wearing all the clothes he had been when he fell asleep. He was in his t-shirt and his boxers, but his jeans, socks, shoes and shirt were gone.

"You undressed me?" he asked the obvious question.

"Sleeping in clothes isn't fun," Derek replied; "I hope you don't mind."

Stiles shook his head; he couldn't say he did. The fact Derek was wearing a t-shirt and sweats helped, because it didn't feel too weird.

"And you're a cuddler?"

"It's a werewolf thing," Derek said with a shrug.

"Me too," Stiles said, "a cuddler I mean. Mom and I used to sit on the couch and cuddle up and fall asleep watching movies, Dad too sometimes, but not since..."

He stopped talking before he dug himself into a black hole he really didn't want to visit.

"I thought you were straight," he barrelled on.

"Bi," Derek said.

"Never would have guessed," Stiles admitted; "you give away no clues, dude."

"Don't call me dude," Derek replied and it almost sounded as if they were having one of their normal conversations, "and it was probably the alpha instincts. An overriding need for an alpha is to expand their pack, either by the bite or breeding; because I'm bi not gay that will have overridden any interest I have in the same sex. If I'd stayed alpha longer my natural instincts probably would have reasserted themselves eventually."

"Sounds confusing," he said, trying to imagine what it must have been like for Derek.

He had glimpsed what pack instincts were like over the last few days so he had a fair idea how suddenly being an alpha might have messed with Derek.

"Different, but less confusing actually," Derek explained; "the instincts are there to help, even if some of them are difficult to deal with when trying to be civilised."

That made Stiles' brain flick back to his own revelation.

"I could have said no," he blurted out.

Derek frowned at him.

"Sorry," he apologised, "talking about instincts you just reminded me, last night, when you proposed, I realised I could have said no. It made everything okay."

The way Derek nodded suggested he knew exactly what Stiles was talking about and that made everything easier as well. Being a born wolf seemed to help a lot in the current situation if Stiles was any judge.

"So you've done this before," he checked with a completely unnecessary, hand wavy gesture to indicate what he was talking about, "with a guy?"

Derek simply nodded.

"When Laura took us to New York," Derek replied. "For a while after," the pause told Stiles all he needed to know about what they were talking about, "I didn't want anyone near me, but then I met a boy. He was a year older than me and so different from...her... that I wasn't afraid anymore. We were together for a year and we learned a lot with each other."

"Why'd you break up?" Stiles asked before he thought better of it.

"We were teenagers," Derek replied with a shrug, "we drifted in different directions and I didn't want to tell him about the wolf stuff. We parted friends, but he knew I was hiding something."

"Sucks," he commented.

Derek didn't look overly cut up about it, however.

"So," Stiles said, "what next?"

"What do you want to do next?" Derek countered with a question of his own.

It took a force of will, but Stiles managed not to follow any of the hundred and one trains of thought that offered him.

"Um," was the most sensible thing he could think of to say. "Well, what would count to complete what we started?"

Mentally he was cursing himself for suddenly feeling so nervous. It wasn't as if he hadn't considered this.

"It's a mating bond so we probably have to go all the way," Derek said and Stiles stomach disappeared in a whole flock of butterflies.

"And who has to top?" he asked.

Facts, he could deal with facts.

"Both of us."

That was not the answer he had expected.

"Really?" Some of his nerves were forgotten as his curiosity was piqued.

"You're very powerful, Stiles," Derek told him, "and I'm your ground; we have to be equals in this. We don't have to switch all the time if you don't want to, but to formalise the bond it would be a good idea."

Something inside of him relaxed a little at that information. The darker parts of his mind had had visions of Derek having to fuck him into submission or something.

"So which do you normally prefer?" he asked, because they were having an adult conversation and he could do this.

"Never really cared," Derek revealed.

"Wow, you're not really alpha at all are you?" he said before his brain caught up with his mouth. "Shit, sorry," he apologised almost immediately.

Surprisingly his verbal diarrhoea drew a smile out of Derek.

"No," Derek replied, "I'm not. That was never really me."

"You seem much more relaxed now," he commented with about as much tact as ever.

"I am," was the honest response.

Stiles smiled; he was glad.

"Right," he said after a moment, "back on topic. How ... um ... what..?"

"A shower?" Derek suggested.

Part of Stiles sighed in relief, part of him panicked.

"Okay," he said, hoping he didn't sound as out of his depth as he felt.

He was nearly seventeen, but he felt like a kid as Derek climbed off the bed and then offered him a hand. He took it and tried to smother his nerves with the anticipation that was swirling in his belly. He'd been naked with other guys a hundred times in the locker rooms, but he'd never been "naked" with another guy.

Stiles had always thought Derek's bathroom was surprisingly nice for a barely habitable loft, but admiring the decor wasn't really part of the plan now. When Derek just began to strip as soon as they were inside, Stiles tried to do the same, only he found his attention being very much dragged from himself. Derek was still all lean muscle and smooth skin and Stiles couldn't help himself; he stared.

"Like what you see?" Derek asked in a casual tone as he stepped out of his sweatpants.

Derek wasn't wearing anything underneath.

"Oh god yes," Stiles replied, "and I'm allowed to look now, right?"

"You're allowed to look," Derek confirmed with a small smirk, "as long as I'm allowed to look as well."

Stiles glanced down at himself and all the nerves suddenly came back. He felt instantly inadequate. Derek was a Greek god, a very well endowed Greek god, and he was a skinny adolescent. When Derek stepped closer he looked up again, but he wasn't sure what to do.

"What's that look for?" Derek asked.

"Why would you want me?" he replied with his own question.

"You mean apart from the broad shoulders, legs that go on forever and moles that I want to trace with my tongue?" Derek replied and managed to stun him speechless. "You are the most intelligent person I have ever met and I don't just mean book smarts..."

"Um, Lydia," he felt he had to point out.

"Lydia doesn't count as a normal human being," Derek acquiesced, "she is in a class of her own. You have saved my life more times than I care to count. You can be the most annoying person on the face of the planet and yet, god help me, I like it. When everything is going to hell you just say something and it all seems manageable again."

"You like that I'm annoying?"

"I like that you should be annoying and aren't," Derek said. "I don't like that you're still wearing clothes."

"Oh," was the best he could do.

"Want some help?" Derek asked and just lightly touched the hem of his shirt.

He nodded and let Derek draw the material upwards. He still felt inadequate, especially when he glanced down and saw what Derek was packing again, but the way Derek looked at him made him think it might not matter.

"I'll start the water," Derek told him and left him standing there in his boxers.

It took a swift mental kick to get himself to move after that. He shucked out of his shorts quickly before he could change his mind and then when Derek stepped into the shower he followed. He barely noticed the temperature of the water because he was suddenly in Derek's personal space and his coordination wasn't good enough to prevent skin contact. The power under his skin flared at the touch.

"Do you mind if I wash your hair?" Derek asked as they stood under the spray. "It's kind of a wolf thing."

"Social grooming?" Stiles asked because by now he knew everything there was to know about real wolves.

"Something like that," Derek said.

"Sure," he replied; it wasn't what he had expected, but it made sense.

The moment Derek's fingers touched his head he was so glad he had said yes. No one had washed his hair since his mom when he was younger, but this was an entirely different experience. Derek's touch was firm, but caressing and Stiles couldn't help himself, as Derek lathered his hair with shampoo he moaned. He closed his eyes and decided that he was totally not going to be embarrassed by how much his body was reacting to the simple show of affection. It was so nice it even managed to shut him up, well mostly, he still made noise; it was in his nature.

He was kind of disappointed when Derek told him to rinse. That didn't last long, though, because then Derek had shower gel on his hands and those hands were on Stiles.

"Okay?" Derek asked quietly.

"Yeah," he replied, strangely breathless.

It was almost an out of body experience as Derek slowly washed him and gently nuzzled as his neck, just below his ear.

"If there's anything you don't like, just tell me," Derek said as his hands moved downwards.

Stiles bit his tongue, because he knew if he opened his mouth he was never going to stop talking, but he nodded. He was way out of his experience, but as Derek touched him, clearly exploring, he felt safe and looked after in the older man's care.

The fact he could feel the power inside him reacting to the contact really didn't help him do anything sensible.

"Let me take care of you, please," Derek whispered.

"What about you?" he managed to say.

"We have plenty of time," Derek told him and so he nodded again.

Under Derek's ministrations, Stiles felt his cock hardening from semi-erect to fully erect even though Derek hadn't dipped below his waist yet. The touches were soothing and erotic at the same time and he felt himself relaxing into them. When Derek's strong hands finally soaped over his buttocks he almost tensed again, but he pushed the instinct away. Derek wouldn't do anything he didn't want and if he didn't like it all he had to do was say.

As Derek kissed him he kissed back, letting Derek pull their bodies flush and he could feel Derek's naked erection against his hip. It was far more intimate than he had imagined and heat ran through his body. Soft lips covered his own and he let his tongue dart out, deepening the kiss and bringing one of his hands up to put against Derek's chest.

He was so involved in the touch of lips and tongues and the slight scratch of stubble that he only belatedly realised what else Derek was doing. Only as the pad of Derek's finger brushed across his hole did he notice where Derek's hand actually was. He started at the touch, moving forward against Derek and Derek stilled for a moment, clearly waiting to see what he would do and he took those seconds for what they were. It had felt strange, but he wanted this, wanted it far more than he could have realised, so he deepened the kiss again and moved slightly to give Derek better access.

Permission given, Derek started to tease him carefully as they continued to kiss. The shower gel was slick and they were only half under the spray now, so Derek's finger moved over his hole smoothly, pushing just a little harder every now and then. It was sensual and Stiles felt everything going straight to his dick. He kept losing the kiss, because the touches distracted him and eventually he put his face against Derek's shoulder and wound his arms around his lover. Derek started kissing his neck instead and he moaned quietly, nipping at the wet flesh under his lips.

For once he managed to draw a sound out of Derek, rather than the other way round. He wasn't quite sure what he had done, but clearly to Derek it was a signal to go up a gear, because Derek's slick finger finally breached him. He gasped and trembled, but realised quickly that he was pushing back into the sensation.

"Oh god," he said, the damn on his speech he had been so diligently trying to maintain blowing away, "that ... oh god."

His chaotic brain really had no way to deal with all the new input and all he could do was trust Derek. It was going to take him a while to adjust and his thoughts were scattering in so many directions. Holding on, he did his best to simply experience.

"Still okay?" Derek asked.

He nodded.

"More please," he said and pulled back a little, opening his eyes so he could look at Derek, "oh my god, more."

Derek obliged, smiling at him just a little, and slowly moving the intruding finger in and out of his hole.

"Never done this before," he said, unable to stop the words anymore; "should have tried it years ago."

"I know what will make it even better," Derek told him and his mouth might have fallen open as Derek slowly slid downwards. "You might want to hold on," Derek added.

"Oh my god," he said yet again, because it seemed to be only appropriate and grabbed for anything in reach that would support him.

Then he swore much more colourfully as Derek sucked his dick into what Stiles was learning was a very sinful mouth.

"Won't last," was as coherent as he managed, because he was only human and he was a teenager and he had something of a hair trigger.

"Don't need to," Derek said, pulling off for a moment and then Derek pushed one finger back inside him and began sucking him again.

He had no idea what he was saying, but he just couldn't shut up as the litany of words was the only thing between him and ending everything before it had barely begun. There was no chance of thinking unsexy thoughts to hold off, so he spouted nonsense as Derek tried to suck his brain out through his dick. He was proud that he managed to last a minute before he bucked into Derek's mouth and fell apart. That finally did make him nonverbal for a while.

Derek looked like the wolf who'd just caught the rabbit when he stood up again. Frankly, Stiles thought Derek deserved to.

It was nearly an hour later, after a slightly awkward discussion as to whether Stiles wanted to carry on what they had been doing and bottom first or change it up where he had decided to keep going down the road they were on; Derek had spent ages opening him up with lube and fingers and Stiles had probably recited the dictionary several times over while magic rippled under his skin, that Derek finally pushed into him and barrel number three of their magical combination lock clicked into place.

As far as Stiles was concerned sex was amazing and so he told Derek exactly how amazing for as long as he could, until he came again with magic blowing his mind at the same time.

After that his erection just didn't seem to want to go away and he couldn't for the life of him stop touching Derek. He wasn't sure if Derek had even come yet, but all he knew was he wanted to make Derek explode and he wanted to be inside Derek when that happened. It was a goal and he could occasionally be very focused when the goal was important. Thankfully Derek seemed perfectly happy to help him to his goal, guiding him and offering up whatever he wanted.

If he was honest it was all a bit dreamlike and he knew time passed, but he wasn't sure exactly how he ended up between Derek's legs sinking into warm, slick heat and gazing into Derek's bright eyes. The magical sensations were beginning to take over from the physical ones. The real world was what he could only describe as fluffy on the edges as Stiles' awareness split between two planes. He was trying to keep a rhythm as he stared down at Derek, but his body just wasn't responding fast enough to his brain.

"Stiles," Derek said, voice tight with arousal and need, but laced with concern.

It was a good thing too, because he seemed to lose all coordination for a moment and ended up leaning over Derek and slipping out of him completely. The power was prickling his skin and urging him on, but he couldn't seem to do it.

"Need to keep going," he said, trying to push back onto his knees.

He only managed to miss clumsily and then Derek was helping him to lie down on the bed.

"What's wrong?" Derek asked.

"Magic," he said and grabbed Derek as his lover tried to move away. "Need to finish."

His vision wasn't whiting out this time, but something else did flash into his mind's eye every few seconds.

"Please," he begged, because things were happening and he needed Derek.

"Okay," Derek agreed and Stiles went to try and sit up, but Derek pushed him down onto his back. "Let me," Derek told him.

He really wasn't ready for the show of athleticism as Derek straddled him, took hold of his cock in a very firm manner and then slid down onto it. For a moment his vision did flash and it had nothing to do with magic.

"Yes," he said as his body and magic responded.

Derek rocked above him doing all the work again, but Stiles didn't have the time or thought processes to feel guilty. He was reaching for something on both the magical and physical levels and with every move Derek made Stiles was closer to both. His body was tightening with the familiar pressure of an approaching orgasm, but his magic was spreading out.

"Pack," he said breathlessly. "Derek, I can feel them, I can feel you."

He didn't know how to explain it. They were all there: Scott, all bright and warm with a shadow around him; Alison and Isaac, somewhere close together, all but tangled; Lydia, sharp and soft at the same time; Ethan and Aiden, two and yet one and oh so very broken; then there was Derek, so bright and so close that he almost blinded Stiles as Derek's presence flooded him with warmth and need.

For just a moment he felt them and he thought he felt echoes of the same coming back at him before he fell apart, surrendering to his orgasm and to the power inside of him. The magic that had joined with him when he and Derek first kissed and had built at every stage settled into his very core and spread from him, through him and Derek to the rest of the pack.

It was the most mind-blowing experience of his young life. He was pretty sure he yelled something along with what sounded suspiciously like a howl from Derek as the power took them.

He lay there staring at nothing, panting for what seemed like an age with Derek all but collapsed on top of him.

"Derek," he finally said, patting Derek's shoulder.

Derek mumbled something back, but Stiles had no idea what it was.

"Derek, are you okay?" he asked, kicking his brain into something resembling reality as he began to worry.

"Fine," Derek managed to be coherent this time, "just can't move. That was ..."

"Yeah," he agreed; he couldn't put it into words either.

After another few moments that definitely felt like Derek trying to gather the will, Derek climbed off of him and collapsed onto the bed in what was a very uncoordinated display. That made Stiles feel somewhat better about his performance at least.

"Did you feel them?" he asked.

"Yes," Derek replied, lying on his back with his eyes closed.

"They're our pack," Stiles said in wonder, "even jerkoff 1 and jerkoff 2."

Derek snorted a laugh at that and Stiles could feel his body coming back under his control, so he had to assume the same was true of Derek. He grinned to himself as the mystical fog left him and he slowly pushed up on one elbow.

"Deaton said I should be able to turn into a wolf," he said as his brain kicked back into gear.

"You're thinking about that now, really?" Derek looked at him askance.

"I think about everything all the time," he replied. "I'm also considering how many other sexual position we have to try out, if my recovery time was to do with the whole mystical thing we had going, or if it's the whole wolfy, but not wolfy thing and a hundred other things you probably don't want to hear about."

The way Derek's eyes dragged all the way down his body and back again at the mention of sexual positions made him swallow rather hard.

"How about we find out about recovery time while you tell me all about these sexual positions and then we can worry about the wolf stuff later?" Derek suggested.

Stiles could get on board with that.

"Well that table," he said and pointed, "it's just begging for claw marks."

~*~


	3. Pizza, Pack and Dad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek and Stiles have had sex, but now they have to deal with what comes next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long - last week was something of a nightmare. My husband put his back out and trapped his sciatic nerve and had to be ambulanced to hospital so they could check it wasn't anything else and it threw the whole week out. Now it is finally done and I can finally watch the eps of 3b that I have saved up because I didn't want to watch it before I finished this. Hope you all enjoy it.

They had ordered pizza for lunch; four of them, because they were ravenous. Eating them was entertaining because neither of them really wanted to stop touching long enough to do so, but they came up with a sequence of short breaks. Then went back to the sex, but while Stiles had nowhere near exhausted his ideas for the loft, he had managed to exhaust his sex drive by mid afternoon. It turned out his recovery time and stamina were now up there with a werewolf's, but even supernatural creatures had their limits.

There were a lot of things that needed thinking about, but he knew for a fact it was going to take him time to process before most would make sense. In the interim, after he came back from taking a shower he sent two texts, one to Scott:

"Sex is amazing! Talk later. Stiles"

Then one to his dad:

"All good, sorry didn't call, slept for 10 hrs last night. Explain everything when get home. Love you, Stiles."

Once that was done he focused back on Derek.

"Where's Cora?" he asked, because he had been wondering, he'd just been a little busy.

Surprisingly Derek smiled at the question.

"Making three grown men cry," Derek told him.

"Now you gotta explain that," he said while trying to get the last of the water out of his hair.

"We went to stay with a small pack who used to be family friends," Derek said, puffing the pillows in the bed in a very domestic way; "their alpha, Greta, is the matriarch like our mom was and she and mom were good friends."

It was the first time Stiles had heard Derek refer to his mother without there being a huge overlay of grief and he almost held his breath.

"Greta and her husband have three sons, all looking to be the next alpha," Derek continued, "but Greta is a stickler for their family traditions, one of which is the alpha is always mated."

"Oh, I can see where this is going," Stiles said.

"The eldest, Timothy, tried to make a move the third night we were there," Derek said and was grinning so Stiles was pretty sure nothing bad happened; "Cora gutted him."

Stiles made a few mental adjustments for the whole werewolf angle.

"Bet that hurt," he said, "and I bet she just missed his tackle, didn't she?"

"By an inch," Derek replied, "and that's only because she likes him."

Stiles shuddered; Cora was a ruthless young wolf.

"And she's still there?" he asked.

Derek nodded.

"We were sorting through some stuff so we stayed and then when I felt the need to come back I asked her to think of herself and not follow me," Derek said. "All three of Greta's sons are courting her and she seems to like the idea and she's definitely enjoying making them run rings while they vie for her attention. Cora was always a little wild, even as a baby, so I don't know if she'll settle, but at least she's having fun."

"Go Cora," Stiles replied and did a little flag wave with the smaller towel.

He was glad she was happy; he had grown to like her, even if she was scary as hell.

"So, wolf stuff," he said while admiring his mate's ass as Derek leaned over the bed.

"What about wolf stuff?" Derek asked from where he was tucking clean sheets onto the bed.

"How do you think I'm supposed to do it?"

"Your eyes glowed white several times since we consummated the bond," Derek told him, "so I should think all you have to do is want it."

"They did?"

Derek nodded; "white with a blue ring."

"I didn't feel different," he admitted.

"Probably because you've been charged with magic anyway," Derek said. "You'll figure it out with practice."

He shrugged in return; Derek hadn't been wrong yet. He almost reached for his jeans, but then stopped. If he was going to do this he might as well do it right then when he was only in a towel.

"How do you change?" he asked.

"A lot of the time I'm doing my best not to," Derek said, "but when I'm calm it's just a matter of reaching inside and finding the wolf nature."

Stiles took a few seconds to think that through. His wolf was not natural, it was magical so he mentally looked at the power nestled at his core. He wasn't familiar with it yet; he needed to take time to get to know this new aspect of himself, but he felt around it. There was a wild edge to it.

"Your eyes are glowing," Derek told him.

"Cool, at least that's a start," he said.

He could feel the magic, but it didn't look like it was going to be as easy as just thinking about it. He brought to mind Derek and Scott and even Isaac when they went wolfy and it stirred feelings of pack. Scott was his alpha and best friend, Isaac was a pain in the ass, but he was still a friend and then there as Derek, his mate. He had never wanted to be a wolf before, he had known deep down that that wasn't what he was supposed to be, not like them, and yet now he wanted into their world. This was his path, not theirs, and he wanted the wolf, he wanted it fiercely.

It was like a flame shooting out from his core. Raging heat seared through his body and everything it touched melted. It probably should have hurt, it did on some level, but it was as if that part bypassed his brain. He was aware of his body shifting and changing, but it was over in the blink of an eye.

For a few seconds Stiles felt totally disorientated and he almost fell over. His equilibrium was completely gone and he shook his head to try and get it back. Considering that his head was in an entirely different configuration with his body that didn't overly help and he sat down with a thump. That was when it finally dawned on his scattered brain that he had four legs.

"Wow," Derek said, looking at him with a reverent expression.

Stiles twisted his neck to get a look at himself and he almost panicked for a couple of seconds. He had fur, lots of white, fluffy fur; he was a wolf.

"Hey," Derek said, kneeling down in front of him quickly and placing hands either side of his head, "it's okay, you're okay, concentrate on me."

For once doing as he was told was easy and Stiles looked into Derek's face as his mate smiled at him.

"You did it," Derek said; "you really did it."

Derek's fingers in his fur were very distracting, especially where they were touching the undersides of his ears. The fact he could smell Derek very clearly and something associated that smell very distinctly with sex and warmth and safety didn't help him focus much either. It was a bit of a struggle. The wolf instincts were also closer to the surface and he finally had an idea of why Scott had been so out of control for a while.

"Now you," was what he tried to say, forgetting that he had no human mouth and what came out was a whine.

He wanted to see how his wolf would react to Derek's werewolf form.

Derek frowned at him.

"You want me to change?" Derek asked, as if not sure of what he was saying.

Stiles blinked and nodded.

"I'm not sure how I knew that," Derek admitted and Stiles just gave a wolfy shrug; they could figure out that later.

This seemed far more important at the moment.

"Okay," Derek said with a laugh as Stiles nudge him with his nose.

Watching Derek's features change was nothing new, feeling something in the air shift as well was.

"Better?" Derek asked as Stiles stared.

Stiles whined, deliberately this time because there was something else, he could feel it. He nudged Derek again and pushed with more than just his body. Derek gasped, his bright blue eyes flashing white and Derek began to change. Man became beast before Stiles eyes and there was the distinctive sound of ripping material as Derek burst out of his clothes.

The overall effect of a big black wolf would have been more intimidating if that wolf hadn't looked non-plussed and been wearing the remains of jeans and a t-shirt.

Stiles shifted back without even thinking about it and threw his arms around Derek's wolfy neck.

"OMG, you're a wolf too and you're huge," he said, because he just needed to get the words out.

Derek melted back to human in his arms, but barely moved.

"I've never done that before," Derek said, sounding stunned.

Stiles realised he probably should have been in a similar state, but his brain had never reacted the same way as everybody else and he was so excited. Derek's clothes were wrecked, which was all kinds of hot, but as Stiles pulled back he tried very hard to keep his eyes on his mate's face.

"I'm not an alpha," Derek said as if he was still trying to get his head round the whole thing; "I couldn't do that even when I was."

"Deaton said you'd get a power boost too," Stiles said, "and it totally wouldn't be fair if I was a wolf and you weren't. You still have the wolfy form though too for which I'm glad, because, wow, you're hot as a werewolf."

Derek looked kind of surprised by that.

"You think I'm hot when I'm wolfed out?" Derek asked.

"Derek, you're hot all the time," he replied, "and the whole eye thing and your cute pointy teeth..."

"My teeth are not cute," Derek snapped almost instantly and shifted, baring his fangs to prove it.

Which, of course, made Stiles laugh, because he had known that was exactly how Derek would react. From near disaster only days before to being happier than he remembered since his mom died, Stiles just had to let the delight out.

"God you're amazing," he said and kissed his mate before Derek could even shift back.

He felt hair retreat and fangs disappeared under his lips and then Derek was kissing him for real. For a little while he forgot they weren't still in the middle of their sex marathon.

"Come on," Derek said when they finally pulled back; "you can help me find some new clothes and put some on yourself before I start getting ideas."

"I don't mind if you have ideas," he replied and grinned.

"Don't temp me," Derek said; "you are still human even if you've got the wild in you."

Stiles opened his mouth because there were just so many possibilities with that statement, but Derek kissed him again to shut him up.

"Clothes," Derek said and then pulled away and stood up.

As Derek helped him to his feet, Stiles had to admit he was aware that he had muscles in places that were unused to certain activities, so Derek was probably right. That didn't mean he didn't enjoy Derek undressing again and redressing; it was a fantastic view.

~*~

Stiles lasted a good twenty minutes and managed to drink a whole cup of coffee before he started to rethink his stance on the ending of the sex. He'd even texted Scott again with a slightly longer message, but Derek had most of his attention. He just wanted to touch and then touch some more and he kept losing track of the random conversation they were having.

"Stiles, are you alright?" Derek asked and Stiles realised he had done it again.

"Just wondering how you'd taste if I licked up your neck," he replied, because there was absolutely no point in lying.

"You found out," Derek said, "several times."

"I know, but every experiment needs repeating a lot to get a decent sample set."

The way Derek laughed at that made Stiles want to kiss him all the more.

"I thought you were tired?"

"I was," he admitted, "but I'm definitely changing that stance. Can I ... um ..."

There was really no reason to be awkward after all the things they had done, but the heat of passion was gone, so Stiles wasn't quite sure how to approach everything.

"You can do whatever you want to me, whenever you want," Derek replied with the ghost of a smile.

That was one of the hottest things Stiles had ever heard and he headed towards the couch from where he had been wandering around. He had plans, lots of plans.  
  
"No!" he heard from the door just as he settled over Derek's lap facing his mate.

Lydia walked in looking somewhat dishevelled. Alarm bells went off in Stiles head because a, Derek alarm system was clearly still broken and b, Lydia never looked less than pristine unless something supernatural and usually bad was going on.

"What happened?" was his immediate question.

When Lydia was followed through the door by Scott, Alison and Isaac, also all looking less than perfectly attired, he was even more worried.

"You happened," Isaac said with his usual directness.

Stiles looked at Derek and frowned; no one sounded particularly worried, so he wasn't sure what was going on.

"You're going to have to be more specific," he said.

"Sex," Lydia said pointedly; "you two are broadcasting sex."

"And ... oh," he realised why people might be looking a bit dishevelled; "so you guys have..."

"Been encouraged to bang like bunnies," Lydia finished before he could come up with an equally colourful simile. "Aiden and Ethan are downstairs with Danny and we're going to have to figure out what to tell him because at the moment he figures drugs, but he has a brain so that won't last long."

Stiles had been wondering about Danny since the twins had formally changed allegiances, but at that moment his brain found a puzzle that was far more interesting. He couldn't help it, sometimes his attention simply went off on a tangent and looking at his friends there was an anomaly.

"Right, Danny," he said in a vague tone as the other idea coalesced in his brain, "but not what I want to talk about right now. Danny and Ethan, Lydia and Aiden, Alison and Isaac, but Scotty, you don't look like you've been all by yourself."

Scott's hair was in all directions and said 'someone has been running their fingers through me' about as directly as a neon sign.

"Stiles, focus," Lydia said, "not the issue."

But the way Scott looked guiltily at Alison and Isaac spoke far louder than words. The pieces of the puzzle clicked into place.

"Oh, oops," Stiles said and he couldn't help it, the first bark of a laugh escaped him.

He probably should have been apologising or worrying about the after effects, but he'd just spent a week almost dying and then at the mercy of his hormones and the fact his friends had been at the mercy of the same hormones just struck him as funny. He was full body laughing in seconds and all he could do was bury his face in Derek shoulder to keep the noise down.

"Oh god, I'm sorry, but..." was as far as he got when he tried to get control of himself, but the looks on his friends' faces were just too priceless and he dissolved again.

"This isn't funny," Lydia snapped at him, "I had an appointment at the salon this morning, my nails are a mess."

That was the wrong thing to say, because Stiles collapsed even further. Part of that might have been hysterical terror at the wrath of Lydia, but a good percentage of it was mirth. Apparently Scott found that a little bit funny too, because Stiles distinctly heard a very rapidly muffled laugh.

"Stiles I won't kill because he nearly died this week," Lydia said in a very direct tone, "but you, McCall, I will have no hesitation in disembowelling."

That just made Stiles laugh harder. He might have been worried it was real hysteria if not for Derek's solid presence.

"You okay?" Derek asked very quietly, but it was likely every werewolf in the room heard it anyway.

He nodded into his mate's shoulder and did his very best to stop laughing. It took a hell of a lot of effort and a few false stops and starts. Eventually, however, he did manage it and he sat back and twisted so he could look at his friends.

"Sorry," he said, but that was the best he could do without laughing again.

"Right, now that Mr Inappropriate has himself under control," Lydia said, fixing him with a glare and he had to bite his tongue really hard, "what are we going to do?"

"Order more pizza and explain everything to Danny," Derek said in a surprisingly calm tone.

"Ethan will want to be there for that," Alison pointed out.

"Invite them up," Derek replied and Stiles felt the hand on his back flex a little, but otherwise Derek showed no other emotion.

"Are you sure?" that was from Scott, proving that their alpha was in fact sensitive to those around him.

"They're pack," Derek said as if that explained everything.

"But they..."

"They're pack," Derek replied bluntly; "they are welcome here on pack business."

Stiles was all too aware there were issues and those issues were bound to come up in the future, but he could see what Derek was doing. Everything had changed and the twins had a lot to make up for, but there were more important things to worry about. Lydia didn't argue and simply slipped her phone out of her pocket. Stiles heard her explaining things to Aiden, but he was more focused on Derek at the moment.

"You sure you're okay with this?" Stiles asked quietly as the others came into the main part of the room.

"Yes," Derek replied, but the openness from earlier was subdued. "Among wolves we blame the alpha; it was all on Deucalion's head. I might not ever like them, but they're pack."

Having finally experienced some of the pack instincts Stiles found he could accept that. Since their makeout session had been interrupted he reluctantly climbed off Derek's lap and stood up, waiting for their visitors.

It wasn't long before the twins and Danny appeared at the door.

"You okay with this?" Scott asked Ethan as the three came in.

Ethan just nodded, sticking close to Danny. The twins were both watching Derek warily, which was amusing on one level and painful on another, so Stiles mirrored Ethan by remaining close to his other half too. Derek for his part hadn't even stood up, which was clearly an indicator of peace if ever Stiles had seen one.

"Hey, Danny," he said, giving their friend a small wave, "bet you're really confused right now."

"You could say that," Danny replied, "but I guess I'm about to find out the real reason that everything has been crazy this year?"

"That's the plan," Lydia said, crossing to Aiden, "but you might want to sit down."

"What, next to cousin Miguel, or should I say, Derek Hale?" Danny asked.

"So glad you're more observant than you pretended," Stiles decided. "This is Derek's place, in case you were wondering."

"Animal attacks, two serial killers and all my friends being uber weird," Danny replied; "it was easier to pretend not to see it."

"Yeah," Alison agreed; "it was a lot easier when it didn't all make sense."

Stiles could see their point, but he'd never really been someone who preferred ignorance, not since his parents had tried to keep from him just how sick his mom was. He liked to be in the know.

Danny walked to the other end of the couch with Ethan shadowing him and actually took the offered seat.

"Right, who wants to do this?" Stiles asked.

"You seem to be covering it," Lydia replied and there were several other nods.

He did have the sense to look at Ethan, but the alpha just twitched at him, which he took as a 'go ahead'.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Just tell me," Danny replied.

"Werewolves," Stiles went with the shortest, most succinct explanation, which was unusual for him.

He watched the disbelief travel over Danny's face and then came the thoughtfulness which he knew was at the centre of Danny's character.

"This isn't a joke?" Danny checked.

Stiles shook his head then pointed at Derek.

"Werewolf," he said, then moved on to Isaac, "werewolf," Aiden, "werewolf," Ethan, "werewolf," Scott, "and our very own True Alpha werewolf. Also Jackson, but he ran off to London so I can't point at him. Lydia, apart from being a genius and the fashion goddess of this town is a Banshee, Alison's all human but could probably kill you with her pinky finger and me, well, that's kind of complicated, but I'm human too with a huge helping of magic. That's new, in case you were wondering."

"Why you collapsed?" Danny asked.

"Give the man a cigar," he replied; he had always like how perceptive Danny could be when actually given the facts. "Also you being pinned to every available surface by your boyfriend, or you pinning him, not calling that, is mostly my fault, sorry."

"Our fault," Derek added quietly.

"Your fault how?" Danny wanted to know.

"It's kind of long and complicated," Stiles replied, "but it all comes down to me and Derek having lots of really awesome sex and broadcasting it to the rest of the pack. No, we have no idea how, but there was this moment where I guess we connected and somehow we, probably my fault, never let go. Really don't get this magic stuff yet, but nothing exploded, so, win."

"You and Derek?" Danny asked and sounded somewhat incredulous.

"Werewolves you take calmly, but me and Derek you don't believe," he said; "I think I'm insulted, actually, no, I know I'm insulted."

"It's not that," Danny said before he could go off on one, "I just would have sworn you were straight."

That mollified him a little.

"He was just too focused on me to give off the right signals," Lydia said as if that was perfectly normal behaviour; "even I hadn't figured it out, so don't worry, your gaydar is working fine."

"But you are taking all of this really calmly, are you sure you're okay?" Scott asked.

Stiles might not have let the whole incredulity part drop so easily, but Derek chose that moment to tug on his arm and pull him down. He ended up in Derek's lap and found himself relaxing even as he watched Danny watching him and Derek.

"Still processing," Danny replied and looked over at Ethan who was clearly nervous. "This so explains why you growl in your sleep."

"They all do that," Alison and Lydia said at the same time, "usually near the full moon," Lydia added.

Stiles found he was a little jealous that he had yet to find this out. All the werewolves looked a little embarrassed, but no one denied it.

"I'll order pizza," Derek offered to give Danny a little breathing space and Stiles leaned over to pick up the mobile that was on the small table, handing it to his mate.

"Okay," Scott said once the pizza orders were in and Danny and Ethan had moved off to the stairs to talk quietly, "does anyone have any idea what happened today, because, no offence guys, but I really don't want to be that out of control every time you two have sex."

"There was a connection when we sealed the bond," Derek said in a very matter of fact tone. "It was a sense of the pack like an alpha has, only stronger, but it felt like it was transitory."

"Yeah," Stiles agreed; "I had no idea we were broadcasting. No idea how that could work."

He was getting used to the feel of magic at the back of his mind, but he was sure he hadn't felt anything specific going on while he and Derek were having sex.

"Of course I was really distracted, so anything could have been happening," he admitted. "I mean really, really distracted; you have no idea..."

"Stiles," Lydia said before he could wax lyrical about the joys of sex with Derek.

"Sex is awesome, just sayin'," he said because he couldn't resist.

"I've heard of white wolves," Derek offered, "but I've never heard of something like this. The stories I know are mostly from when I was a kid, so they would have been sanitised, Peter might know more."

"Could we start with Deaton rather than Creeperwolf?" Stiles suggested, because, no matter what, Peter still put him on edge. "At least we know Deaton will tell us the truth even if he only tells us half of it."

"Stiles has a point," Alison agreed.

Everyone else seemed to agree, or at least, before there were any objections Lydia had her phone out and Deaton was answering them on speaker.

"Well that is very interesting," Deaton said once Lydia had explained everything in a far more detached and practical way than Stiles was sure any of the rest of them would have been able to manage. "I have heard of close connections between white wolves and their packs, but they are usually brought about by very rare circumstances. I would hazard a guess that this situation was caused by the creation and settling of the bond between Stiles and Derek. If I were you I would not worry about it unless it happens again."

"Great," Stiles said with a huge smile, "change of plans, everyone out, Derek and I are having sex again."

Derek rolled his eyes at that and everyone else ignored him, so everything was back to normal.

"Is there anything we should be careful of?" Derek asked.

"That would depend," Deaton replied; "Stiles, how are you feeling?"

"Awesome," he said; "I can turn into a wolf; it is so cool."

Possibly he was devolving into a twelve year old, but he hadn't had his medication and magic really was great.

"You've already done that?" Deaton asked and the surprise was obvious in the man's voice.

"Um, yeah," he replied, "why, shouldn't I have?"

"No, no, nothing like that," Deaton replied, "I am just surprised at such rapid progress, although, perhaps I should have learned by now never to underestimate any of you. Don't over exert yourself; it will take time for the magic to settle, other than that, congratulations."

"You can really turn into a wolf?" Scott asked, sounding intrigued.

"Totally," Stiles said and nodded; "a big white one. Well at least I thought I was big until Derek changed too; boy is he huge."

After it had popped out of his mouth it occurred to him that Derek might not want everyone to know that yet. However, as everyone looked at Derek, Stiles realised his mate didn't seem overly bothered by it.

"Does Stiles mean you turn into a full wolf too?" Scott asked and Derek nodded. "I thought that was an alpha thing?"

"So did I," Derek replied.

"Maybe it's a genetic thing," Stiles suggested; "I mean Derek's mom and his sister could do it, so maybe it's a recessive trait just waiting for a power boost and because of all the shit going on at the time Derek never got enough when he became an alpha."

He hadn't actually realised he'd been working on a theory as to why Derek could now attain a full wolf form, but apparently, he had.

"That would make sense," Lydia said and he might have preened a little as their resident genius agreed with him; "it would explain why not all alphas have the ability. If different werewolves have different genetic prerogatives, but some of them require different levels of power, it would explain why different alphas end up with different abilities."

"There are others who have proposed similar theories," Deaton agreed and Stiles remembered they had the man on the call. "Of course no one has done extensive research on that aspect of werewolf nature."

"Nope werewolf research mostly seems to be on how to kill or contain them," Stiles commented, "no offense Alison."

"None taken," Alison replied, "it's true."

"Someone should really fix that," Lydia commented and Stiles was graced with a vision of Lydia gaining a PhD in werewolf studies.

He wasn't sure if it was funny or frightening.

"And there is nothing else?" Derek checked, ever paranoid it seemed, even now.

"Nothing immediate," Deaton replied. "I would suggest you all take time to rest and recover, especially Stiles, but this will have affected the whole pack."

"Thanks, Doc," Scott said.

"Not at all," Deaton replied, "goodbye."

Everyone said some form of farewell and Lydia ended the call. With that out of the way Stiles found his focus returning to Derek.

"Stiles," Lydia interrupted him before he could do anything inappropriate, "you can help me make coffee for everyone."

That translated as 'you can make coffee I will supervise' and Stiles would have objected if it had been anyone else, but it was Lydia and no one said no to Lydia. The fact that it would probably keep him out of trouble was also quite clear in his head.

"Back soon," he said and pecked Derek on the lips.

~*~

Pizza had arrived and mostly been consumed by the time Stiles had a chance to talk to Scott alone. Scott very unsubtly dragged him outside to throw some of the used pizza boxes in the trash and he went willingly.

"You're really okay?" Scott asked him quietly even though they were far enough away that even werewolf ears probably couldn't hear them.

It was just like Scott to still be worried.

"Yeah," he replied, "I really am. This is nothing I ever imagined, but, sue me, I like it."

At that there was the barest hint of a smile on his friend's face.

"It kind of rush having powers isn't it," Scott said.

"Hell yes," he replied and grinned.

"You always did want to be a superhero," Scott teased.

"Hey, I was," he protested, "but before I was Batman and now I'm Doctor Strange."

Scott almost rolled his eyes, but there was no way Stiles was ever giving up the pop-culture references.

"And you weren't kidding when you told me sex was awesome," he added; "I have never been so strung out in my life. Man, it was epic."

Normally Scott would either have agreed with him or asked him bluntly to shut up, but instead he saw Scott grimace. Then he remembered why.

"Um, yeah, so sorry for laughing before," he apologised, "but it was that or have an epic freak out."

"It's okay," Scott told him, something wistful in his expression.

"So, I'm okay," Stiles said, "but are you? You've got that look in your eye again, like the summer."

The fact Scott didn't just say yes set off alarm bells in Stiles' head.

"Talk to me, man," he encouraged.

"Not here," Scott replied; "werewolf ears."

That had to be just an excuse, but Stiles knew all about needing time to process.

"But later?" he pushed, because he could see Scott needed to tell him something even if it wasn't right then.

Scott nodded and he reached out and placed a hand on Scott's arm in support.

"Us against the world," he said in what he hoped was an encouraging tone.

That actually drew a small smile out of Scott and a nod.

"Us against the world," Scott affirmed and it was settled.

~*~

The pack was mellow for a couple of hours lounging around Derek's loft, talking and simply bonding. There was a lot of touching going on, just small, innocent brushed between members, but it spoke volumes. Things had shifted, that much was obvious, and Stiles could tell it was going to take a while to get used to it. However, there was someone else who needed an explanation, which was why he and Derek left everyone else to clear up and headed out very late afternoon.

"Ready for this?" Stiles asked, looking at Derek before he opened the door of the SUV.

"As I'll ever be," Derek replied, but gave him a tiny smile, which for Derek was huge.

He had texted his dad to tell him they were coming over and Stiles could only pray his father was not polishing his gun.

"Hey, Dad," he said as soon as he entered the house and found his father standing in the hallway, "can we agree on one rule, no shooting Derek."

His dad was not in uniform, but his gun was casually sitting on the side table. The gun was never left lying around unless his dad was trying to make a point.

"Why, has he done something that deserves a bullet?" his dad said.

"Nope," Stiles said very quickly, but made sure he was between his dad and Derek anyway.

After all his dad was well aware that a normal bullet wouldn't kill Derek and Stiles was pretty sure his dad wouldn't have loaded with wolfsbane bullets even though Chris had given him some, but his dad did seem to be stuck on the fact he was only just about to turn seventeen.

"Can we, like, move into the living room?" he asked hopefully.

His dad was still stony faced, but turned and walked towards the chairs.

"None of this is Derek's fault, Dad, no matter what you're thinking, it's mine," Stiles decided to jump in with both feet.

"You're a sixteen year old boy," his father replied.

"No, no, Dad, I'm not," he said before his dad could go on. "Firstly I'm seventeen in a couple of days and secondly I haven't been a boy in a while, not since people started showing up dead all over town and I ended up in the middle of it. If that isn't enough for you, I'm a white wolf, Dad. Look at me."

He let the magic inside him out to play a little and he knew his eyes would be glowing.

"Derek helped me when no one else could," he went on.

There was a lot more he could say, in fact there were words backing up in his brain, but he held on to them. If he started rambling his dad would stop listening and that was the last thing he wanted.

"And you," his dad said, looking to where Derek was standing at Stiles' shoulder, "what do you have to say for yourself?"

"Stiles is my mate, Sir," Derek said in his usual stoic tone; "wolves mate for life."

From the expression on his dad's face, Stiles wasn't sure if that had been the right or the wrong thing to say.

"Why Stiles?" his dad asked.

"Thanks," he said, feeling just a little insulted.

"This isn't about you, kid," his dad told him; "you're six..." he glared, "seventeen," his dad corrected, "and Derek is a lot older than you. No matter what you think the age gap creates issues. I don't care what you are, I will not have you in a relationship with an older man where you won't be happy."

"I find his annoying habit of talking all the time endearing," Derek surprised him by speaking up, "The way he can focus on a subject and run with it until he knows everything there is to know is amazing. He sees things in a way no one else can and shares his insights like they're nothing special. He's so brave it's frightening. He's loyal to his friends and takes no shit from anyone who crosses him. He's independent, caring and has a pathological need to fix things. He's been trying to fix me almost since the day I met him when he didn't even like me and I think he might actually have succeeded."

Stiles stood there with his mouth open; he had never expected Derek to say anything like that.

"You really are in love with my son," his dad said.

"Yes, Sir, I am," Derek replied, "and I have been since the day he trod water for hours holding me up in a swimming pool while I was paralysed from the neck down."

"Really?" Stiles asked, somewhat astonished.

Derek nodded at him. When he looked back at his dad some of the tension had gone out of the Sheriff's stance. He was amazed; it actually seemed to be working. He was amazed for other reasons too, but if he thought about those he wasn't sure he could be coherent, so he put them to the back of his mind.

"And you, Stiles?" his dad asked.

"Had a thing for Derek for a while, was just too Lydia-centric to notice," he replied perfectly honestly, "and if I start telling you why we'll both be embarrassed and I might never stop talking."

His thoughts were going in too many directions and he knew he would start rambling if given the chance; either that or have a panic attack, which so didn't sound like fun.

"You're sure?" his dad asked.

"Yes, Dad, I'm sure," he replied. "It's like," he had to pause to force his brain to stay on topic; "it's like I found the secret level and all the treasure is mine."

It was a horrible analogy, but it was the best he could do.

When his dad stepped towards him still stony faced he wasn't sure what to do. He was too on edge to read any of the subtle signals his dad had to be giving off, so he just stood there. When his dad grabbed him and pulled him in for a hug he actually sagged in relief.

"I just need to make sure you're happy," his dad said into his shoulder and relief so intense flooded through Stiles that he thought his legs might give out.

That was probably why it took him a second of so to realise that he felt kind of achy, especially in his right shoulder area. It was so sudden that it confused him. It affected his magic too, because he felt that rise again and it was as if a wave of gentle heat passed through him and into his dad. It made him feel floaty and light.

"What the hell?" he heard Derek say and he snapped back to reality.

He stepped back from his dad, looking for whatever Derek was talking about. That was when he realised that both his dad and Derek were looking at him.

"Um, what?" he asked.

"You glowed," Derek said.

"I did?" he asked and looked down at himself; he had no idea what had just happened.

Glowing was definitely not a normal reaction. That was when his dad reached out towards him in a comforting gesture and stopped half way.

"What?" he asked, checking, but he couldn't see any more glowing.

"My shoulder," his dad said, lifting the outstretched arm further and then swinging it backwards; "it doesn't hurt anymore."

Ever since Miss Blake has stabbed his dad, Stiles knew the wound, although not serious, had been giving his father trouble. The fact his own shoulder was hurting immediately set off a siren in his head and he grabbed the neck of his shirt, pulling it aside before he thought about it. There, where nothing should have been, was a pink scar and as he watched it faded.

"Oh shit," he said as he kind of panicked.

His dad caught on and did the same with his own shirt and there was nothing there, no wound, not even a trace of the old injury. Stiles scrabbled to pull his phone out of his pocket and hit Deaton's number. It probably said a lot that he had the man on speed dial.

"Stiles," Deaton said as soon as he picked up, "how can I help you?"

"I healed my dad," he said in a rush because this was just that one step too far. "I hugged him and I glowed and it hurt and the scar moved to me and then it was gone and I don't know how I did it. It just happened and it wasn't like turning into a wolf where I had to think about it, I didn't even know I was doing it. Why did I do that? How did I do that? You never said this would happen. I don't understand."

Arms came round him from behind.

"Breathe," Derek said, pulling him close, "just breathe."

As Derek held him, he took a huge gasping breath and realised he had been headed for a panic attack. He had managed to cope with everything else, compartmentalising what he still needed to process, but this had finally smashed his control.

"Stiles, there is nothing to worry about," Deaton spoke to him over the phone in his usual calm tones, "it is called sympathetic healing and it is a rare and valuable gift. Magic users often have some part of their power that comes to them instinctively, this is yours."

He took another deep breath.

"But I thought that was the wolf stuff?" he replied and glanced over at his dad who looked like he wanted to reach out too, but didn't want to cause any more problems.

"That is the essence of the power you have been given," Deaton told him, "the healing is the essence of you."

Stiles didn't really know what to say to that.

"You can look on it as a higher level of what the wolves can do," Deaton explained. "They can remove pain and in extreme circumstances an alpha can sacrifice their power to heal a beta as Derek did, but you can heal directly. With practice you should be able to control the ability to a very fine degree."

"But what use is healing?" he asked, mostly because it was the first thing that came into his head. "I run with wolves and they heal themselves."

"There are some things not even a wolf can heal from," Deaton replied and Stiles went cold.

He flashed back to the dream and the shadows that were coming.

"Stiles," Deaton said, "the white wolf chose you, whatever is coming you will help the pack be ready for it. Do not doubt that."

Really he wasn't sure what he had expected, something to do with mountain ash and baseball bats probably, but not this. It was making him rethink and he wasn't good at that when he had focused on a course of action. Only Derek's firm presence behind him kept him grounded.

"Thanks," he told Deaton, "sorry to have bothered you."

"It's no bother, Stiles," Deaton told him. "I am here when you need me. When you are ready come and see me and we will talk about teaching you all you need to know."

"Yeah, okay," he said. "Bye."

He hung up and leaned into Derek.

"Sorry," he apologised to his mate and his father; "I wasn't expecting that."

"What did Alan say?" his dad asked and reminded him that humans didn't have ears as sharp as werewolves.

"How about we have some coffee and I'll explain it all?" he suggested.

~*~

"Dad," Stiles said as he wandered into the kitchen, "can Derek stay tonight?"

The look his father gave him was priceless. They had spent well into the evening talking and his dad hadn't kicked Derek out yet, but it was getting late now. His dad clearly wasn't comfortable with the whole mate thing yet, but Stiles had hope.

"Not like that," he protested; "I am well aware there is pushing you and then pushing you too far; I meant in the spare room. I get you have a problem with us being together, together, but Deaton says it will take the magic a while to settle and I don't know what might happen if Derek is too far away."

His dad looked dubious.

"You felt the whole healing thing," he said, "that's not exactly me, that's instinct and until I get the hang of it Derek is the only person that can keep me focused."

"He has a home of his own," his dad pointed out.

"Nope, he has a loft apartment that really needs some TLC," he replied, "I'm not sure Derek's had a home since his family burned to death in his."

That earned him a very thoughtful silence.

"You'll need to make up the bed," his dad said eventually, "and you will sleep in your room. There will be no naked togetherness in this house, am I understood?"

"Yes, Dad," he said and threw his arms around his father, "thank you. I promise, no naked togetherness."

He went to bounce out of the room.

"But some kissing is okay, right?" he asked. "Because that might be a fundamental need."

He left before his dad could reply, but he did hear the groan.

~*~

So he had spent ten minutes with Derek at the entrance to the spare room until his dad had made very unsubtle noises from the other side of the corridor, but he was a teenager and he couldn't help it. He wanted to touch Derek whenever and wherever he could and that's all there was to it. Trying to fall asleep in his own bed was hard. It was as if he was missing something and he tossed and turned for at least an hour before sleep finally took him.

When Stiles opened his eyes on the white place he almost panicked before he realised something felt different. He was on the dais, but, when he looked down, this time he was not with a wolf, he was the wolf. That made everything different and he felt his body tingling with energy rather than being drained.

There was a musky scent on the air and he swivelled his head to catch it better, at which point he saw the big black wolf standing looking back at him on the other side of the dark barrier around his little island. He wasn't sure how he had ever not known it was Derek. Everything about the magnificent creature screamed the truth at Stiles. Without questioning the instinct, he trotted towards where Derek was standing, only stopping when he came to the inky moat.

There was no way across and he wasn't sure what to do. They stood there looking at each other and all Stiles wanted to do was reach the blue eyed wolf. It was almost a physical ache as he realised he couldn't.

Derek stared at him steadily for what seemed like an age and then put his head back and howled.

It was a mournful, but, oh so powerful sound and it ripped right to Stiles' core. He had no choice but to follow his instincts and throw his head back and join the chorus. Their wolf voices joined in a wild harmony that soared through the empty space.

As he called out for his mate, Stiles felt the magic moving through his bones. It built and built, moment by moment, called by the song and he had no choice but to let it explode. White light, even brighter than the place he was in, shot out of his body, bringing his howl to a stuttering stop. It lanced at the darkness surrounding his dais and the area echoed with an almighty crack and a sound almost like shattering glass.

When his vision cleared, the first thing Stiles saw was that the darkness was not gone, but as he looked he realised it was riddled with large white fissures. Acting on pure need he touched a paw to the crack just in front of him and it was solid under his pads. The bottomless darkness was breeched and he didn't even stop to think about it, he bounded forward, using the white cracks as a path to the other side.

Derek was waiting for him, only he was moving so fast he couldn't stop and he barrelled into his mate making what should probably have been embarrassingly excited and needy noised. He buried his muzzle in Derek's fur in as close to a hug as a wolf could get and they lay on the floor in a tangled heap. They were together; they could do anything.

"What the hell is going on?"

Stiles shot upright, or at least he tried to, but there were muscular arms holding him and he only got about half way.

"What?" was the best his sleepy mind could do as he half collapsed back to the bed.

"Stiles, I trusted you," his dad said and it finally made it into Stiles' brain that he was not in his own room, he was in the spare room and the arms holding him belonged to Derek.

Now he was really confused.

"Stiles, I want to see you downstairs and you," his dad pointed at Derek accusingly, "get out of my house right now."

"Dad, wait," Stiles said as the reality of the situation finally resolved in his brain, "it's not what ..."

"Not what, Stiles?" his dad interrupted him, clearly very angry. "You asked if he could stay and you knew the rules. You betrayed my trust."

"No, Dad," he protested, but his father looked angry enough to start waving his gun around.

"Sir, I promise," Derek backed him up, "I went to sleep alone."

"So you're blaming this on Stiles?"

"No, Dad, that's not what Derek is saying," Stiles raised his voice, "he's trying to tell you we don't know how we ended up together. We were both asleep..."

"Sleepwalking? Don't tell me you're going to go with something like sleepwalking."

It sounded weak even to Stiles, but it actually made sense.

"I was dreaming," he said as where he had been came back to him; "the white place," he turned to Derek, "we were in the white place."

Derek nodded.

"We broke the darkness," Derek said.

When Stiles looked back at his dad he realised worry and confusion were now warring with the anger. He knew for a fact it wouldn't last though, not unless he could explain.

"Dad," he said, "please, this wasn't deliberate. I went to bed in my own room, I swear and I don't know how I got here. I think ... I think it might have been the final part of what we needed to do. I woke up in the white place, only it wasn't like before; I was the wolf this time and I had power. Derek was there, but he was on the other side of the darkness; the darkness around my heart. There it's like a moat, a really deep, endless moat that I couldn't get across, but we broke it. Together we shattered it and then I heard you yelling and that's all I know. I don't know if I walked here or if something really weird happened and I just appeared here, but we did not break the rules deliberately."

For a few seconds he thought his confession might have fallen on deaf ears, but then he realised that some of the tension was leaving his dad's stance.

"Anything to add?" his dad asked, looking directly at Derek.

"No, Sir," Derek replied; "I'm very sorry for breaking your rules, but, as Stiles said, it wasn't deliberate."

His dad just stood there for a little while longer and then finally began to turn away.

"It's a school day," his dad said; "breakfast in twenty minutes, I expect you both to be there."

Stiles actually slumped in relief.

"I could really have lived without waking up like that," he said as the adrenaline began to wear off.

"Yes," Derek replied pulling him close for a second. "We had better move if we want to make the deadline."

He had to agree, but he really didn't want to move.

His relationship with Derek was complicated, because of the age gap and his dad's worry; his magic was somewhat incomprehensible to him; he still needed to talk to Scott about what had happened during the broadcast sex and now the darkness as well; their little pack had several very broken pieces that were going to take a long time to fix; there were things on the way that would endanger them all.

It was a long list of things that needed addressing, but as Stiles headed to the shower he had to admit he was happy.

Firstly there was Derek. While Derek seemed to find it straightforward to profess love, he didn't, but he was almost sure that was the inexperience of youth rather than anything else. He needed time to process how their relationship had shifted and what the warm, fluttery feeling in his chest actually meant. However, that didn't stop him being happy. And, of course, the sex was epic.

Then there was everything else. He was closer to the supernatural than he ever would have dreamed. Before he had been the weak and squishy human and he didn't have all the strength of the wolves or their fighting ability, but he had something else. The pack needed him and he needed the pack; it was the beginning of a new era for Beacon Hills and they were all part of it. He liked being part of the powerful whole and doubts be damned; he stepped into the shower with a smile on his face.


End file.
